This Moment: 12:00 A.M. July 12, 2011 - Turtle Bay, Hawaii

At this hour, the ocean is my only companion. It is a moonless night. Ambient light from the hotel in the distance illuminates the waves' white crests as they rise toward the shore. A slight breeze cools the humid air. It is my last night on the island. This morning as I snorkled through rocks a silvery fish served as a brief guide, waiting at intervals for me to catch up until it tired of the game and darted away. In the depths a large fish, as long as my arm, swam towards me, then circled below, and without thinking I asked, "who are you", then scrambled to the surface and on to a lava rock ledge for safety. From what, I'm not certain. Perhaps what is strange frightens us because it awakens us to that which is a stranger within.